You are a battle. A fight with not end.
A quarrel of massive proportions with life.
You battle your struggles. The fight
tires you, makes you vulnerable. The enemy strikes
you with her hard cold speech. Words turned into weapons.
You take them in, they start cracking your shield from within.
There is so much hits a person can take before their protective
shell fails them.
The sharpshooter dances in circles around you, you a target ready
to take every hit, every flesh splitting word, they slice
your soul with whip like licks, but you stay.
Soul Mate Battlefield
No letting go, Believing in your words
even when the traitor tries to pollute the mind.
But I use my fighting tactics,
I implement love, precise and perfect believe that
the truth is not disguised.
Jabs of Pain sometimes felt, below the belt hits try
to phase me and scare me away. But I stand my ground.
Joan of Arc warrior mode, Martyr till the end, sacrifice
me for a better you.
Doubt attempts to penetrate my shield, sometimes
even wounds the surface, scratches are seen on this protective
metal. But in the end my defenses hold strong.
Strong because LOVE will conquer all, Wars that are worth
fighting for are always won and this War is worth the battle.
So you stay-
And will set you free.